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I’m now sixty-four years old. So I recently did some basic math that blew my mind. Let’s assume I live to 100. (Note: I recognize this is optimistic, but this was the negotiated age settlement I reached with my son, who originally demanded I live to 200.). If I live to 100, I only have 36 Februarys left. - 36 more chances to complain about Valentine’s Day commercialism. - 36 more chances to pretend groundhogs have meteorological expertise. - 36 more chances to get this whole “living” thing right. Thirty-six. That’s it. Knowing this number changes everything about how I show up in February. It becomes my personal procrastination-buster. For example… - I don’t let myself postpone that visit to my 93 year old mom in Pennsylvania. - And I stop putting off those deep conversations with my teenage son, that we both awkwardly avoid, but desperately need to have. This limited number of “36” makes every choice I make in February feel more real, more urgent. It makes me aware that “later” isn’t guaranteed. And I don’t just do this with February. I’ve got my countdown going for every month of the year. Now, you might think that sounds depressing, but it’s not. It’s clarifying and motivating. Because when you know you’ve only got 36 remaining of anything, you start treasuring it far more. Right now you might be wondering: “Hey, Karen, what’s with this death countdown thing?” Well, the quick-ish answer is found HERE in my ARTICLE ON MEDIUM! Click to read!